


No-Nonsense

by griffxtrn



Category: The Tunnel (TV)
Genre: Contains spoilers for The Tunnel Season 2, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffxtrn/pseuds/griffxtrn
Summary: Olivier invites his french and english colleagues to dinner at his home, hoping to dispel the tension in the aftermath of the season 2 events, and to ensure that all his juniors are relatively happy before moving back to Paris.





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> I remembered reading that Olivier was described as a family man in the press release for The Tunnel: Sabotage. So, I really wanted to write an Olivier-focused story, highlighting that he sees himself as a bit of a fatherly figure, while also introducing his family who we have never seen before. (Also: This is my first fanfic so forgive me if it's not super polished.)

Olivier Pujol seated himself upon a squeaking black chair in the main office of the Calais Police Force. His eyes felt heavy, his back ached, and he just began to realize that he was hungry when his junior colleague Philippe Viot approached with a bag of warm pastries, two cups of coffee, and a smile on his face.

“Philippe,” Olivier said, as the young man handed him a drink. _“Merci.”_

 _(“Tu semble fatigué,”)_ “You seem tired,” Philippe observed. He began wheeling forwards a chair to sit opposite him.

 _(“C’était quelques semaines difficile.”)_ “It’s been a tough few weeks,” Olivier replied.

Philippe nodded in understanding, saying nothing. The entire office had been gravely concerned, hearts pumping with adrenaline and fear when they had heard Karl and Elise had been kidnapped a few weeks prior. It had been as if time itself had stopped—when Olivier first heard the news, all he remembered was wondering to himself, _what was the last thing I said to Karl? To Elise? Did I ever tell them how much they mean to me? How much I admire and like them?_ He had glanced around his room, full of colleagues rushing to grab their keys and running to the doors, trying to help in any way that they could. He asked himself, _Did I ever tell any of them?_

He took a bite of food and a sip of hot coffee, the taste of the cream in his mouth as he mentally pushed the memory away. Of course, now everything was alright—Elise would be discharged from the hospital any day now, healthy enough to continue recovery at her apartment. From the last time Olivier had seen them, Elise was her usual apathetic self, and Karl was slightly shaken but otherwise had the regular glint in his eye which said, _things will be okay_.

Olivier admired that about Karl. He had a natural sympathetic, comforting air to him which Olivier usually failed to present to people. As such, he was not the one that people turned to in times of distress. Knowing he lacked this natural positivity which Karl carried at all times, Olivier tried to simply be kind in his actions and his words.

Laughter interrupted Olivier’s thoughts. Lieutenant Louise Renard and ‘BB’ Boleslaw Borowoski walked into the office at the other side of the room, hand in hand. They were equally well dressed, Louise wearing a slightly longer magenta coat, while BB stuck to the dark attire which contrasted from his charismatic personality. They whispered as they walked, Louise’s long dark hair bouncing slightly on her shoulders as BB told her a story.

Philippe, his mouth full of sweets, turned his head and grinned at the two of them, waving them to come over. Olivier couldn’t help but notice that the pair separated their hands as they walked closer. Though Elise was the new commander, everyone still treated Olivier like he was the boss whenever he returned—even those who he had only just met.

Olivier nodded at them and gave a tired smile. _“Bonjour.”_

“Now, what did you call us all here for, Olivier?” BB asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

Philippe adjusted himself in his seat and stared at Olivier, suddenly serious with wide eyes. “You’re not retiring, are you?” he said, speaking in English for BB’s benefit.

“No, no,” Olivier replied, chuckling. He opened his mouth to speak, but again, his thoughts were interrupted—this time by the boisterous applause of nearly everyone else in the room, all heads turned towards the doorway. Philippe, BB, and Louise, all turning around, joined in on the applause, with BB even shouting a “Hey!” and Philippe whistling and standing.

Olivier couldn’t believe it. At the doorway stood Karl Roebuck, with his natural easy smile, and his hands rested on the back of a wheelchair upon which sat Elise Wassermann, whose left eye remained covered with a patch.

As the applause slowly quieted, Karl wheeled Elise towards Olivier and their colleagues.

Karl wore a thick dark sweater—the weather now having turned quite cold. Elise herself wore a thin black rain jacket, zipped up fully but loose enough on her that it looked comfortable. She wobbled slightly on her heeled boots as she stood from the wheelchair, as if she had been sitting for far too long.

“I’m fine, Karl,” she said, as Karl put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not paralyzed.”

He smiled awkwardly at everyone and moved the empty wheelchair out of the way.

Olivier took a step forward towards Elise, who now made eye contact with him for the first time. Her one good eye seemed slightly watery, but Olivier simply reached out a hand for her to shake. “Elise, welcome back,” he said in French. // _(“Elise, bienvenue.”)_

Elise glanced at his offered hand, and all-too-quickly stepped forward and hugged Olivier instead, making the rest of the colleagues laugh lightly.

Olivier hugged her back, as awkward as Elise, moving her blonde hair away from his face. Her skin felt warm, as if she had recently gotten a fever, but he smiled nonetheless at being reacquainted with his old colleague. He nodded at Karl, shaking his hand.

“She got discharged this morning,” Karl said. “Figured I’d bring her here before she heads home.” He placed his arms lightly around Philippe and BB, who stood on either side of him. “And also, these two hooligans told us you have a special announcement, Olivier.”

Olivier clapped his hands together. “Well,” he said, taking a deep breath to organize his thoughts. He was so nervous about this that he forgot to speak in English for Karl. “You all had a difficult few months,” he said seriously. _(“Vous avez plusieurs des problemes ces mois passé.”)_ “I think it’s time for a bit of good fun before I head back to Paris. This was not my idea, you know, but my wife has decided to invite you all to our house for dinner tomorrow.” // _(“C’est le moment de s’amuser avant que je retourne à Paris. Ma femme a vous invité chez-moi demain, pour faire le dîner.”)_

“Dinner?” repeated Karl, more for understanding than anything else. He gave a quick glance towards Elise, and they both smiled at each other for a brief moment.

Olivier nodded and let his words hang in the air. “Would you like to come?” He added quickly, now switching back to french, “But if you have other things to do we understand.” _(“Si vous avez eu des autres choses de faire, on comprend.”)_

Karl looked surprised but pleased, Louise and BB glanced at one another, looking cheerful to have been invited together, Elise hadn’t changed her demeanour—perhaps still processing the information—and Philippe gave a great, hearty laugh. He clapped his hand upon Olivier’s shoulder.

“Good man,” he said. “Like I said, I am always in need of more food.” _(“Puisque j’ai dit, j’ai toujours besoin à manger plus.”)_

It seemed, as conversation continued and the younger colleagues chatted, that everyone felt similarly. Olivier nodded, feeling the group’s excited and lighthearted behaviour spread around the room.

When he had the chance, knowing he might not see her again until the dinner, Olivier spoke to Elise. As he talked, she grabbed the nearby wheelchair and sat again upon it, perhaps still feeling the effects of medicine provided by the hospital. “Will you be on good behaviour?” // _(“Seras-tu de la meilleur conduite?”)_

She glanced at him. _(“Fais semblent?”)_ “Pretend?” she asked, referencing to an old conversation in which he had told her to _pretend_ to be nice to her team of colleagues.

He smiled. “I want you to be yourself, Elise,” he said. _(“J’espère que tu seras toi-même, Elise.”)_ He scratched his beard absentmindedly. “And also, try to be nice if you can.” _(“Et aussi, tâcher d’être gentille, s’il te plait.”)_

\--End of Chapter 1--


	2. The Dinner

\--Chapter 2 of 2--

Although Olivier now had a job in Paris, he had lived near Calais for so long that he and his wife could not take it upon themselves to completely sell their house, which had by then become their _home_. Additionally, Olivier knew that deep down, his job in Paris would be temporary—that working in Calais was where he felt he could return to, a place that would always welcome him back.

They came up with an agreement: to rent their house to a close family friend for the duration of time that Olivier would be working in Paris. This friend of his wife’s had yet to move into the small house; as such it was the perfect time to have a quick get-together before Olivier left.

With the sun setting slightly earlier than expected, Olivier helped his wife Charlotte prepare the dinner. He wore a simple plaid shirt with the sleeves folded up, and a pair of loose black pants from work. As he cleaned the tables, with his dark hair falling over his eyes, he tried to warn her that the guests may be awkward or say things that are out of place—Elise in particular. But Charlotte waved him off, more excited than anything else to meet these colleagues who Olivier had such fondness for. Their profession was so busy that Olivier had never gotten a chance to invite all of them at once to dinner, until now.

* * *

Elise didn’t need two functional eyes to see how nice Olivier’s home was. She entered with Karl (who had picked her up from her apartment), the two of them of course being the last to arrive. Karl had to deal with a toddler emergency—as soon as he spoke of his child vomiting, Elise had tuned him out. For the majority of their twenty-minute drive to Olivier’s home, Karl’s voice was not unlike the background ambience of a coffee shop. The only time in which Elise payed proper attention was when he said, “I invited Julie to come along with us, but she had to cancel last minute.”

“That’s too bad,” Elise replied. “Julie is nice.” Like Elise, Julie was still recovering, except from far worse injuries than the simple needle Elise had taken in the eye.

The home of Olivier Pujol was smaller than Karl’s but still large enough to have a great deal of space. After Elise greeted Olivier, she took in her surroundings, having to physically turn her head to see everything through one lens. She walked forwards, glancing at the oil paintings on the walls—most likely decorated by the tall brunette Charlotte, given that Olivier lacked any interest in art. The kitchen walls were furnished with tall wooden cupboards that nearly reached the ceiling and in the center of the kitchen stood a dark granite island with a metallic sink. The house was relatively modern and cosy, the living room carpeted, and the air was warm—Elise could see a fireplace at the far end of the room, the smoke from its flames heading up into the chimney. There was a flat-screen television in the living room as well, blaring the news of the day in French to the intrigued eyes of Louise, BB and Philippe—Elise’s other colleagues from her work.

Elise walked carefully to the long polished dining room table, which was full of bread and baguettes, soups with vegetables and spiced chicken, cheeses, wine, steak and fries…more food than she could register in her mind in a fraction of a second.

Charlotte looked at most a few years younger than Olivier, and she had a smile on her face as she called everyone to the table. The guests took off their jackets, threw them over the tall chairs and approached the long candle-lit table. At one end sat Charlotte, and Elise sat at the other far end. To her right sat Philippe and Karl; opposite them were BB and Louise on her left, and finally Olivier, closest to his wife.

Charlotte clapped her hands together once as everyone placed food onto their plates, and poured themselves drinks. _“Alors,”_ she said.

She switched to English. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” Her french accent, even Elise could tell, was a bit thick, but her voice still remained soft. She wore a stylish black dress—Elise found it intriguing that the woman Olivier was married to had a bit of a personality. “Olivier has a soft spot for you guys, particularly you, Philippe,” Charlotte joked. It was evident to Elise that Philippe had met Charlotte beforehand and this was not their first time talking—at these words Philippe gave Olivier a wink, and Olivier half-rolled his eyes.

“He has told me a lot about you too, Elise,” Charlotte said. Elise’s eyes fired up as the woman spoke her name. “Half our conversations end up in the subject of the _mysterious Elise_. It is nice to see that you are a real person. You seem to be as warmhearted as he describes you.” She raised her glass. “Thank you for taking care of him when I’m not there.”

This politeness was almost overwhelming. Elise nodded at Charlotte. She stole a glance at Karl, unsurprised to find him grinning. “I wouldn’t necessarily call her _warmhearted_ ,” he chuckled.

“How would you know?” Elise said, speaking fast without meaning to. “You haven’t seen me in a week. I could have become a different person.”

“Highly unlikely,” Karl fired back, smirking. He turned back to Charlotte. “I haven’t known Olivier long, but I’m surprised I didn’t know he was married, or that he had a kid.” Elise had told Karl on their drive over—though she herself had not met Olivier’s daughter, she did not find the information relevant enough at any time to tell Karl. Perhaps Olivier felt the same. “Where is she now?” Karl asked, speaking of Olivier’s daughter.

“At her friend’s house, believe it our not,” Olivier said. “She’s just turned 15. Most likely she’s playing guitar over there, she really likes music now.”

Everyone nodded, and Philippe said “Cool.” They continued to eat, a short silence taking place before anyone spoke further.

“Karl, Laura and Julie couldn’t come?” Olivier asked in a somber tone.

Karl shook his head as he chewed on steamed vegetables, his hand holding his fork in the air. “Julie’s taking care of her own little one, and Laura’s busy at work.”

His voice lowered when he spoke of Laura, and the muscles in his neck tensed up, his jaw clenched—and Elise knew at once that they were most likely fighting again. A few of the guests stared at Karl, expecting him to speak further, but he said nothing.

“So,” Elise began, speaking with one eye open. “Every one seems very happy. Perhaps I should get hurt more often.”

Louise, BB, and Philippe laughed at this. Charlotte had yet to become acquainted with Elise’s humour—or lack of it.

“Elise, how are your classes going?” Olivier asked, changing the subject.

“I am not failing, so I would say that they are going well,” Elise said.

“Ahh yes,” said Charlotte at the other end of the table, intrigued. “You’re taking…” she searched for the word in English. “Leadership? _Des courses de management, oui?_ ” (“Leadership classes, yes?”)

Elise nodded.

“And has Olivier taught you anything about leadership? He’s been Commander since as long as I can remember.” Charlotte smiled her warm smile. “When I found out he was moving jobs, I thought he was making a joke.”

Elise swirled her wine. “I could not say with complete honesty that he has taught me anything worthwhile.”

This caused a great deal of laughter in the room, from everyone including Charlotte.

“Me too,” added Philippe in a laid back accent, making Olivier snort.

Everyone finished their main meal, and left the desserts to sit while they spoke further. The phone rang, and so Olivier left the room to take a call—presumably from Paris.

The conversation slowed until Olivier returned.

“I forgot to mention the reason for this dinner,” Olivier said. “Charlotte and I shall be returning to Paris in a few days, which means I probably won’t see you all for a number of months.” He sat down and nodded towards Elise, a kind smile on his face. “Elise,” he began. “There is nothing more for you to learn from me. You’re a natural leader, in your own way.”

Elise stared at him, though in truth she was pleased.

“Elise, what happened to you and Karl…” For the first time Olivier lost his voice. He coughed. Elise had never seen him act so odd. “What happened could have been devastating, Elise.” He looked around the room. “If something terrible like that had happened to any of you,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t know how I could handle it.”

Philippe chuckled and Charlotte placed her hand lightly upon Olivier’s. Olivier smiled, seeming content with what his own honesty. Despite his rather short dialogue—he was not the type to speak a great deal at once—his words always carried a certain weight of compassion to them, and Elise felt the as much as everyone else. She nodded at him as thanks, knowing that he was always concerned for her well-being, even when he didn’t have to be.

“Perhaps Elise should go with you,” Karl said suddenly, much to the surprise of everyone. “I mean,” he continued, “take a trip to Paris. When’s the last time you went?” He directed this question at Elise.

She glanced towards Karl. The tension in his neck from speaking about Laura hadn’t left. “You want me to leave?” she said abruptly.

The room was silent. “No, of course not. But you’ve been through a lot,” Karl said. “Maybe you should take a longer break than a few days.”

“I’m capable of deciding when to return to work.” Her words were perhaps too curt. The warm atmosphere of Olivier’s compliments faded as fast as they had arrived.

Karl paused. “There aren’t any more serial killers. There’s nothing but routine work to be done.”

Elise put her utensils down. “There are always more serial killers, Karl. If there is nothing happening, it simply means that they are taking this time to plan. We will be ready.”

Karl snorted. “Yeah, like that has worked out well in the past.”

Elise was taken aback. “Is this about Adam?”

Even after all this time, at the sound of his son’s name, Karl nearly twitched. The first wave of Karl’s grief over the death of his son had long since passed, but Elise knew that it was Adam’s death that amplified every personal problem Karl faced. In his mind, not only had he failed to be a good father—he had now failed to be a good husband too. Elise could only presume that his recent arguments with Laura reminded Karl of something very particular, something very sharp in his mind: distinctly, it reminded him of his old arguments with Adam. It was too much to bear.

Karl shook his head firmly, now that all eyes were on him. He rose from his seat and grabbed his coat. To a stunned Charlotte, he said: “Thank you for the dinner. It was delicious,” and walked out of the room.

Elise paused for a fraction of a second, then stood and followed him out. “Do you have something to say to me?” she asked, uncaring that everyone behind her could hear.

“No.” He opened the door to leave. The evening sky was significantly darker than when they arrived. She struggled to follow him out the door, and nearly ran into the wall as she tried to keep up with his pace. She felt dizzy, and she felt tears welling up in both her eyes—the medicine always made her both drowsy and tired.

Elise wanted to say what everyone had been thinking: _Clearly it isn’t working out between you two, Karl._ But the words stuck in her throat as she realized she didn’t want to argue with him. She wanted to walk towards him and comfort him, but how could she? How could years of friendship and caring and love and emotions be expressed in a single moment?

Perhaps she should be more like Olivier, and express her concern through her actions.

Before Karl got into his car, he took one last look at her. Where she expected him to look angry, or even upset, he just looked exhausted.

Elise blinked, shivering as a dry wind slammed against her face and neck. She could feel her temperature still warm from her fever as a drop of sweat fell from her forehead.

She would let him go, she decided. The engine sputtered into life and he was gone.

* * *

_“Tu fait ton mieux,”_ Philippe said. (“You did the best you could.”)

 _“Je sais.”_ (“I know.)

 _“Bonne chance à Paris.”_ (“Good luck in Paris.”)

 _“Merci beaucoup, Philippe.”_ (“Thank you, Philippe.”)

Philippe made a telephone gesture with his hand. _“Appelle-moi,”_ (“Call me.”) he said.

Olivier nodded and laughed. He closed the door as the last of his guests left. He returned to the dining table, to his wide-eyed wife.

“I’m sorry. I warned you.” He shrugged his shoulders. _(“Je suis desolée. Mais j’ai t’a prévenu.”)_

“You warned me of inappropriate conversation, not a full-out fight,” Charlotte said. She picked up the dishes and brought them to the sink. _(“Tu m’a prevenu des conversations malvenu, ne pas des grandes desputes.”)_

He helped her clean up. “I know. I don’t know what happened. I know that Karl has family problems at home, but…” His voice faltered. _(“Je sais. Je ne sais pas qu’est-ce qui s'est passé. Je connais que Karl d'avoir des problèmes chez-lui, mais…”)_

“You should talk to them.” _(“Tu dois leur parler.”)_

“There isn’t any time. Besides, they are adults. Despite everything, they will sort it out.” _(“Il n’ya pas de temps. En plus, ils sont des adultes. Malgré tout, ils vont le résoudre.”)_

They were both silent for a while, until his wife said: “I’m sorry the dinner didn’t go so well.” _(“J’ai désolée que le dîner était mal.”)_

“The important thing is that I was able to say goodbye for now,” Olivier said. “And show them that I care about them.” _(“La chose d’importance c’est que j’ai pouvais dire au revoir et à la prochaine fois. Et montre que je tiens toujours à leurs.”)_

“I could see that they feel the same.” _(“Je pouvais voir qu’ils sentent la même.”)_

Olivier smiled and nodded as his wife walked towards him and hugged him. Half an hour later the doorbell rang; his daughter was back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as I'm not fluent in French I must apologize for any mistakes made in the French translations, I did my best with writing appropriate conjugations.
> 
> Although this fic was mainly about Olivier and his friendships with everyone, I tried to include the relationships/friendships of the other characters and how they were doing after the events of season 2.
> 
> Despite the fact that there is some arguments and tension, it is meant to display that these colleagues are essentially a family, Olivier almost being like a father to them all. And that, having been through a lot together, time will go on and wounds will mend no matter what issues arise between them.
> 
> As usual, please let me know any criticisms/comments you have as I am always looking to improve. Thank you for reading :)


End file.
